


Hurt and Comfort in Hawaii: Uncle D

by PenPatronusAooO



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Aftercare, BAMF Danny "Danno" Williams, BAMF Steve McGarrett, Best Friends, Bromance, Epic Bromance, Family, Family Angst, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Friendship, Gen, Gun Violence, Hospitalization, Hurt Danny "Danno" Williams, Hurt/Comfort, Loyalty, PenPatronus, PenPatronusAooO, Protective Steve McGarrett, Whump, mcdanno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 08:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenPatronusAooO/pseuds/PenPatronusAooO
Summary: Eric doubts that his Uncle D is a good man. Steve tells him the answer. Danny shows him. Takes place after season 7 but before season 8.STORY COMPLETE!





	Hurt and Comfort in Hawaii: Uncle D

It was one of _those_ mornings. His alarm didn’t go off, his front tire was flat, a check bounced, the milk in his fridge spilled overnight, and his girlfriend sent him a text informing him that she was no longer his girlfriend. And, on top of that, he forgot both his ADD meds and his morning energy drink.

 

Eric Russo sprinted into the crime lab with a ham and cheese bagel clutched to his chest like a running back with a football. His white lab coat hung off one shoulder and his button-down shirt was only half buttoned-up. Eric put on his happy-go-lucky smile and tipped up his chin with artificial confidence. “I’m only 12 minutes late!” he announced to his indifferent coworkers. “That’s right, Russo fans, my average arrival time has improved a whole four-and-a-half minutes since last month. Hear me, haters? I’m getting, like, 20 seconds better every day!”

 

Three slow, sarcastic claps behind him. Eric’s face fell when he spotted the pair of men waiting at his desk. “Can’t wait to tell your mom that!” said Danny Williams. He stuck one thumb up in the air and grinned. “So professional! You make the Williams family proud, buddy.”

 

Steve McGarrett elbowed his partner’s upper arm. “Give the kid a break, Danny.”

 

“A break? Like, break his arm? Gladly.” Danny eyed his nephew up and down. “Is that the same shirt you had on yesterday? What, did you forget to put on clean clothes?”

 

“It’s on my to-do list!” Eric took a giant bite of his bagel and continued speaking while he chewed. “Good morning, Commander McGarrett, lovely to see you. You want to step aside, Uncle D? I’ve got important work to do!”

 

“Uh huh.” Danny gestured to the desk chair like it was a throne. “Forgive me, Mr. Important. Have you finished double-checking that _important_ fingerprint we sent you?”

 

“For the Sykes trial? I analyzed all the evidence for that one! Russo magic from exhibit A to Z. The prosecutors already have it. It should’ve been on your desk this morning, dude!”

 

“Well, it wasn’t, _dude_!” Danny bellowed. Steve chuckled.

 

“Must’ve gotten lost in the interoffice mail, Uncle D!”

 

“He still hasn’t gotten it through his melon of a head that he should refer to me as ‘Detective Williams’ in public,” Danny said to Steve.

 

“Why should he?” Steve shrugged. “I don’t.”

 

“You, my friend, are sort of my boss so you can get away with it. Little lab punks should not call me ‘Uncle D,’ or ‘Danny,’ or ‘Danno,’ and definitely not ‘dude!’”

 

“Lab punks?” Eric sputtered.

 

“ _Sort of_ your boss?” said Steve. He lowered his voice so that the entire room could no longer hear him, and said, “Seriously, buddy, Eric’s been doing great work. Who cares if he isn’t always professional? Have you seen Jerry’s t-shirts?”  

 

Danny held his hands out to McGarrett, in supplication. “Whose side are you on? Are you on my side, because you’re supposed to be on my side!”

 

Steve held his hands up, in surrender. “Yikes, here comes the Jersey Devil. We don’t actually need that report now, Danny. Why do you care that he’s 15 minutes late?”

 

Eric gulped down a bite of cheese. “12!” he clarified.

 

A blush rose up Danny’s cheeks. “Why do I care? What if because he’s 15 minutes late, we get the information 15 minutes late, and then we’re 15 minutes late to save someone’s life, huh? What about that?”

 

“12,” Steve softly corrected.

 

“And, I’m sorry, but what about me? What about the way he represents my family, huh?” Danny demanded. “I helped him get this job and all he’s done since is embarrass me!”

 

Anger like fire sparked up Eric’s throat. He was in _no_ mood for his morning to get any worse. He thought of his car sitting in the parking lot on three wheels. He thought of the milk that showered his one pair of work shoes when he opened the fridge that morning. He thought about how his girlfriend broke up with him: via text, complete with a long, detailed list of his faults. “I’m an embarrassment, huh?” Eric tossed his bagel onto his keyboard. He finished buttoning his shirt, putting on his lab coat, and smoothing down the sewn nametag on the left side of his chest. “You want to lecture me about protecting the family reputation, Uncle De- _tective_ Williams? You should’ve given that speech to _Uncle Matty_!”

 

Danny stood frozen except for his flaring nostrils. Steve bowed his head and muttered, “Oh, boy…”

 

Eric couldn’t resist the momentum of his own words. “You act like you’re the perfect role model superhero—like you’re better than me, better than Mom, better than Rachel, and Aunt Bridget!”

 

Stunned silence from the rest of the lab. Every tech stared at the scene, equally dumbfounded and amused.

 

“You’re just McGarrett’s sidekick, man! He leads. He drives. He’s first through the door whenever you’re in the field. What do you do? Just stand around making sarcastic comments while he saves the world?”

 

Steve growled “ _Eric_!” deep and low in the back of his throat.

 

Eric took one step forward—a step forward into his uncle’s personal space. The tension was almost audible, like crackling electricity. “And speaking of Uncle Matty, and speaking of gossip and legacy and reputation, don’t you realize who’s the biggest disappointment in the family? _You_.”

 

“Eric, _don’t_!” Steve ordered. Danny’s trembling hands rolled into fists.

 

“You’re the disappointment not because you got divorced, not because you knocked up your ex-wife, not because you didn’t save Matty, but because you—”

 

Steve gripped Danny’s elbow, but his eyes didn’t leave Eric. “If you say it,” he warned, “you’ll regret it.”

 

Eric ignored the commander. “You were imprisoned in Columbia. It’s a family secret that everyone knows, but they’re too ashamed to talk about it.” He slowed down the tempo of his mocking voice. “You shot an unarmed man, _Detective_ Williams. You are a cold-blooded **_murderer_**.”

 

Eric, Danny, and Steve all assumed that they were the reason for the sudden gasp of horror that rippled through the room.

 

They weren’t.

 

Wide eyes focused on the lab entrance as a bulldog of a man with spiky blond hair and grease-stained jeans burst in with a gun in one hand and a manila envelope in the other. “My name,” said the intruder, “is Leroy Sykes. Soon, Milton Sykes will be in prison because of…” Sykes re-read the name on the interoffice envelope labeled ‘Five-0.’ “ _Because of some dead man named Eric Russo_!”

 

Eric heard McGarrett shouting out of the corner of his ear. In the corner of his eye he saw Danny unsheathe his weapon.

 

Tears filled and then overflowed from Sykes’ bloodshot eyes. “Can’t save my nephew,” he shouted. “Can’t shoot the lawyers, the judge, can’t get the arresting officers, can’t get to that witness but I got in here, by god, and I…” Sykes spotted Eric’s nametag, and grinned. “I will **_kill you_**!”

 

Eric’s jaw dropped. He stared, a deer in the headlights, directly into the barrel of Sykes’ gun.

 

Something blocked his view barely a heartbeat later.

 

Danny didn’t shove Eric aside in slow motion.

 

No one could see the shape and size of the bullet as it rippled the air like in the movies.

 

There wasn’t a sad ballad playing in the background to underscore the irony.

 

Just sounds: _whoosh, crack, pop, pop, thud_.

 

Eric heard the _whoosh_ of his Uncle D’s clothes, the _crack_ of Sykes’ gun, the _pop, pop_ of McGarrett’s, and the _thud_ when Danny landed, spread-eagled, on his back.

 

Voices wailed. People shouted at other people to call ‘911.’ Blood gushed from the center of Sykes’ chest, spouting from two clean holes barely half an inch apart. His open eyes saw nothing.

 

Eric heard a voice repeating his name, but didn’t recognize it as Steve’s until the commander yanked him down to his knees and shoved gauze into his lap. McGarrett told Eric to put pressure on Danny’s wound the way a mother would ask her kids to clean up the table after supper—robotic, poised, almost apathetic. Footsteps thundered—some escaping, others rushing in. Eric reminded himself that a headwound could bleed more and therefore look worse than it actually was. He reminded himself over, and over, and over, and over again as he scrambled to catch the warm blood dripping from Danny’s hair.

 

Dozens of faces hovered around but Danny’s glazed, slowly blinking eyes focused only on his partner. With a gentleness that surprised Eric, McGarrett rotated Danny’s neck and used his hands like blinders to keep his partner from seeing the blood. Steve whispered words too soft for Eric to hear. Danny replied, equally as soft, and Steve chuckled. Steve licked his lips, bit the bottom one—hard—and then whispered again. Danny nodded, but only once. His eyes rolled back and disappeared into their sockets.

 

“Uncle D?” Eric whispered.

 

“Please _. Danny_?” Steve’s composure crumbled. “ ** _DANNY_**!”

 

\---------

 

Eric stood frozen in the doorframe of the dim hospital room with a batch of helium balloons. He hesitated to enter for a dozen reasons, but primarily for three:

 

  1. He hesitated because of the last words he said to his uncle.



 

  1. He hesitated because of the beeping machines and the bandages over the surgical glue over the stitches across Danny’s right temple. (Oh, Danny was going to be so pissed when he saw that missing swatch of hair.)



 

  1. He hesitated because the only other person in the room was likely to toss him off the roof.



 

Eric watched as Steve adjusted the hospital bed until he found the perfect angle that enabled his unconscious partner to breathe comfortably. He replaced the thin pillows and their itchy covers with large, downy rectangles obviously brought from home, and kept in the car for such emergencies. The second that Danny shivered, Steve tugged the bedsheet closer to his chin. The second that Danny sweated, he pulled it back down. Instead of rough hospital booties, Danny had on a new pair of his favorite striped socks. When Danny pawed at his IV or scratched at his bandages, Steve gently plucked his hand away to keep him from hurting himself.

 

Eric’s mind flashbacked to high school when he broke the county record for number of suspensions in a year. Walking into the hospital room felt like walking into detention, except the principal was a Navy SEAL, and the victim was his uncle, not a faceless nerd with grape jelly in his peach fuzz.

 

“Sit down, Eric.”

 

Eric cringed. Steve gave him an order, not an invitation. He took one step back out instead of in. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here.”

 

Steve rubbed calloused hands down the stubble on his cheeks. “You and I need to have a talk. Sit down.” Steve sat by the window, on Danny’s left, and gestured for Eric to sit in a wooden, polyester-lined chair on Danny’s right.

 

“Do we, uh, have to do this now?” Steve gave Eric a look that said without words that he was _not_ going to repeat himself. Eric sighed. He left the balloons to hover against the ceiling and tiptoed over to the bed. “I’ve never done this before.”

 

Steve blinked. “What?"

 

“Been in a hospital.”

 

Steve’s eyebrows jumped. “You’ve never been in a hospital?”

 

“Well, when my mom had me, yeah,” Eric chuckled, “but that doesn’t count.”

 

Steve gave Danny a look like he expected his unconscious partner to roll his eyes. “Well, let me give you a lesson in hospital etiquette, Eric. First rule: whisper. Always whisper. Second, don’t let the patient see how upset you are. And third, when someone you love gets shot in the head, you don’t bring balloons that say ‘Congratulations!’”

 

Eric swiveled in his seat. He hadn’t noticed that the balloons featured an outline of a newborn’s footprint beneath the phrase ‘Congratulations! It’s a boy!’ “Oops,” Eric gulped. Eric studied the numbers and lights blinking on nearby computer monitors. He meant to ask, “Is Uncle D going to be ok?” but his body betrayed him. Numbers and blood, wires and bandages, and the ironically sterile scent every hospital shares settled onto his chest like a lead apron, and water filled his eyes. “Is he…”

 

Steve read his mind. “He’ll be ok,” he said softly. “The bullet nicked him—didn’t shave off anything vital. The crack in his skull is worse than the gunshot. Dumbass got shot in the head, then landed on his head.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t call him Uncle ‘D’ for ‘Danny’—it’s ‘D’ for ‘Dumbass’!” Eric sat chuckling at his joke for a dozen seconds before he realized that Steve was not amused. “Get it? Uncle… Uncle Dumbass…?” The patient stirred at that moment. Danny mumbled vowels in his sleep and flexed his limbs. Steve placed his hand on Danny’s forearm. The pressure appeared to calm and comfort his partner, so he left his hand there.

 

Steve spoke soft but sharp. “Eric, I want you to look at your uncle. _Look at him_.” Eric shriveled under Steve’s glare. He clamped his mouth shut and stared at the small space between Danny’s right eyelid and the bandage above it. “Danny Williams is one of the finest men I’ve ever met. He’s brave, he’s loyal. If I wasn’t such a control freak, he’d be the first one through every door no matter how many bad guys were behind it. He’s saved me so many times, in so many ways. He gave me half his liver, but that organ isn’t half as valuable as…” Steve’s nostrils flared. He tightened his grip on Danny’s arm. “As his friendship.”

 

Eric nodded. He kept nodding like a bobble-head doll.

 

“He took a bullet for you today. My partner—” Steve’s voice briefly broke. He cleared his throat before continuing. “My partner volunteered to die for you and in that moment, you were the last man on earth who deserved that gift. He gave it to you, anyway. And if I _ever_ , **_ever_** , **_ever_** hear you disrespect him, or speak of him as anything other than a hero… If you even _think_ that the lives he’s saved haven’t absolved him for the mistakes he’s made, I will punch your teeth out one. By. One.”

 

“I believe you,” Eric whispered.

 

“You better.” Steve relaxed back into his chair. Eric interpreted that as a clue that he was allowed to leave. He stood, but dropped back down when McGarrett snapped his fingers. “Stay there,” Steve growled. “Stay there and think about what you’re going to say when your uncle wakes up. I want an apology so sincere and moving that it brings tears to my eyes, got it?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” Eric meant it.

 

“And, Eric, I don’t give a damn if you’re in public or at Thanksgiving. For the rest of your life you will refer to him as ‘ _Detective_ Williams’, not ‘Uncle D’.”

 

“I will, Commander.”

 

Steve nodded. “Good man.”

 

The pair stared at Danny’s closed eyes and corpse-colored face. Jaw set, back rigid, veins throbbing, throat working, Steve didn’t take his eyes off Danny for any longer than a blink. And then, around the time that Eric’s hungry stomach started growling, Danny opened his eyes and spotted the balloons. “Did I have a baby?” he croaked.

 

Steve touched his shoulder. “Hey.”

 

Danny’s eyes completely bypassed Eric when he rotated them towards his partner. “Guess my hair isn’t bulletproof.”

 

Steve smiled. He slid his hand between Danny’s left ear and the pillow propping him up. “You’re ok. You’ll be ok.”

 

Danny started to nod but immediately regretted the movement. Air hissed out between his front teeth and he clenched his mouth shut so hard that Eric heard the click. “Hurts, babe.”

 

Steve’s thumb grazed Danny’s cheek. “I know.”

 

Danny sighed. “I know you know.” Suddenly, Danny’s pallor turned ghost-white and, ignoring the pain, he sat up and reached for Steve with both hands like a child for a dad. “Eric,” he gasped. “Is Eric—is Eric ok? Geeze, my sister’s gonna shoot me in the head. Steve, is he ok? _Tell me he’s ok_!”

 

Witnessing his uncle’s emotion startled Eric. He cleared his throat to get Danny’s attention, and then said, “I’m good. I’m here. I’m good.”

 

Danny’s limbs went limp at the sight of his nephew. “Oh, thank God.” He made the shape of a gun with his thumb and forefinger and aimed it between his own eyes. “Right here. That’s where Stella would shoot me. Right freaking here.”

 

Eric sat up straight. “Unc—Detective Williams, Sir, there’s something I’d like to say…”

 

**The End**

 

(Thanks for the comments!)


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